Beginning, Somewhere in the Middle
by Marenfic
Summary: Gunn kisses Gwen. That's only the beginning. Season 4


_She's beautiful_, Gunn thinks.

He says, "What're you doing here, Gwen?"

But it starts before that, weeks before when he touched her for the first time, hot hand on the soft skin of her back and his lips on hers. Her arms were around his neck when the sound of his phone broke through the haze surrounding them, ring after ring that wouldn't be ignored. He'd broken his mouth from hers and it seemed like it must have taken minutes to get his breath back enough to even think about answering, but he guesses now that it was only seconds. He still remembers the way she'd gathered up the folds of fabric from her waist and pulled them back up to cover her breasts as he pulled the phone from his pocket, and he remembers how badly he wanted to turn the phone off instead of answering it. But there was the Beast and a rain of fire and Gunn knew then if he was being called, they needed his muscle.

So yeah, it all started before, after L.I.S.A. but before Cordelia gave birth to Jasmine. Before Jasmine almost killed them all with love. Definitely before this gig with Wolfram & Hart came up.

Gunn's just begun to settle into his new life and all the stuff that comes with it when he takes the elevator to his executive apartment after a long day in court. He's bone tired and he can't remember the last time he ate something that an office assistant didn't have delivered from one of those expensive deli's that made sandwiches with more bread and weird vegetables than meat. All he wants is to get rid of the jacket and tie, grab a beer, and make himself a turkey and cheese sandwich on plain old white bread to eat while he plays his PlayStation.

That's all he wants, that is, until he punches in the key code on his door and steps inside to find Gwen waiting for him in his apartment.

"Wolfram and Hart was never this easy to get into when _we_ were the ones trying to break in." Gunn tries to hide his surprise as he shrugs out of his jacket and throws it over the arm of a leather club chair. Gwen smiles at him from the couch and shrugs.

"Aww, don't feel bad. I'm just very, very good."

Very, very good. It's a major understatement. But he's less interested in her breaking and entering skills than in having her so near after weeks of thinking about the way her skin felt and the sounds she made when he touched her. Gunn looks at her, lets his eyes scan over the sleek leather encasing her legs, the soft drape of the silk of her shirt, the gleam of her dark curls and the red ripeness of her lips.

_She's beautiful_, he thinks. Beautiful and tempting and dangerous.

But he doesn't say it because he doesn't know why she's here and there is no reason to let her know how much he wants her if she's only here to use him in some scheme. And with Gwen, there's always a scheme. It's one of the things he kinda likes about her.

"What're you doing here Gwen?"

"What're _you_ doing here, Gunn? That's a nice suit you've got on there, and this is a hell of a step-up from hotel-life."

It was an excellent question. The easy answer was that they could do good here, more resources, more everything. He isn't sure the easy answer is the whole answer though, and he's pretty sure that's not what Gwen wants to know.

"I don't know. Making a difference, I think. Being more than back-up muscle in Angel's band. Just call me Scarecrow, cause the Wizard gave me a brand new brain. There's almost more law up in there than I know what to do with." He taps his head and gives her a tired smile. He still isn't used to it all, every current code and statute in this dimension and others crowding his brain so that it seems like even one new piece of information might make it all go boom.

Gwen shakes her head, clearly unimpressed. "I heard about the lawyer thing, but you have it wrong. Old brain, Gunn. Just new stuff. Nobody gave you anything you couldn't more than handle. Man, Angel and crew really _have_ done a number on you."

He glances down and meets her eyes. She'd said that before, on the night he first touched her. He doesn't normally go around flashing his insecurities to anyone, much less someone like Gwen who was dangerous enough to use them against him and who'd proven that by, well, using them against him. But she's hitting a little close for comfort, so he doesn't answer, just looks at her until she shrugs those bare shoulders and settles back against the cushions.

Gunn realizes he still doesn't know why she's here. He doubts she came to give him a pep talk. Not really Gwen's style.

"Look Gwen, it's been a long day and I've had more than enough verbal sparring for a lifetime. What do you want?"

There's a flicker of something across her face, something a little vulnerable, and it occurs to Gunn that he's probably one of the few and finest who've ever gotten to see Gwen vulnerable for even a fraction of a second. He remembers the raw look of it on her face when they were standing at the wrong end of Morimoto's guns, the sound of it in her voice when she told him she'd rather die than leave her chance for normality behind. Seeing that same look, the flash of need and determination, makes him wonder what the hell he has that she wants.

"I thought, well. . . "She pauses and looks at him for direction, like he's going to bail her out but he's always been good at waiting people out. People tell you things when there's a little silence to fill.

She takes a deep breath and her lips smile, sly and self-mocking, even as her eyes hold the uncertainty from before. "Actually, I came to finish what we started. If you're interested."

It's not what he expected, but he's definitely interested. And it's not that he's starving for female attention—never has been, and now that he's got the green and the threads women seem to be coming out of the woodwork. Them, he's not interested in. Last thing he needs right now is someone he doesn't know getting close, not when he doesn't trust Wolfram and Hart, not when they haven't tipped their hand about what the brain dump is going to cost him. But he can't deny that he's been feeling lonely, isolated from the rest of the team because his job keeps him busy in his office and in court, and maybe a little because he doesn't want to see the way Wes and Fred stand extra close when they're at work over a book or in her lab.

Even without all that, he remembers what Gwen feels like under his hands. He wants her, and more than that he likes her. Likes the way she sees him as more, as enough. Two minutes with her in this new, foreign place and he remembers who he is with more clarity than he's had for longer than he cares to remember. What he does care to remember is how beautiful she is, how good she tastes.

He doesn't answer, just loosens his tie as he moves to the couch and drops to the cushion beside her. Maybe there's no scheme this time, after all, and if it's his touch that she wants he's more than happy to oblige. He raises a hand and traces the curve of her neck with one finger. She shivers but her face relaxes and the smile turns real a moment before he covers her lips with his. That night in her apartment he remembers her hesitation, the way her body quivered and the way her lips trembled, like chills multiplying. Tonight the tremble is still there but the hesitation is gone. She presses her lips against his, makes a soft sound of surprise and encouragement when he flicks his tongue out to touch her lips, opens her mouth and lets him inside.

Girl still tastes damn good.

He moves her hands to her biceps, grips the soft muscle and feels it flex under his fingers as she reaches out to touch him back. There's a hum starting in the back of his head, a little like electricity but he knows it isn't her, not that way. The bionic part of this woman is working just fine. He slides a hand up and into her hair, grips and tilts and deepens the kiss, feels the spark spread.

"I take it that's a yes," she says in a half moan, half laugh when he pulls away several minutes later for air, and that low throaty voice hits him straight in the groin like it always has.

"This is what folks refer to as a booty-call, you know." He grins at her and shifts, trying to give the growing part of his anatomy more room to do its thing.

"I'm a virgin, Gunn, not a moron." Gwen rolls her eyes and plants her palms on his chest. He doesn't brace himself, just lets her push him back against the cushions of the couch before he grabs her hips and pulls her into his lap.

Gunn forgets about how tired he is, forgets about the sandwich and the beer. He kisses Gwen instead, her lips, her throat, her shoulder. He finds her skin with his hands and touches her, explores the length of her arms before he pulls her shirt out of her pants and slips his hands under to run his fingers over her soft flat stomach. She gasps at the sensation, wriggles in his lap and it's his turn to groan.

She's a dichotomy, novel and familiar at the same time and he loses himself in the feel of her, the exploration of her. He forgets about all of the things he's lost and gained in the time that's passed since he touched her the first time, skims her body and listens to her purr. He finds her sweet spots, helps her find his, and tries not to let the gloating male part of him get too out of control when she comes apart for the first time on the tip of fingers that are not her own.

Later, when he's thinking straight again, he's glad he managed to get them back to his bed before he slid into her.

But first he just gets lost, or maybe found.

*

She's gone when he wakes up the next morning, but she hadn't left right away.

There are things you learn about a woman when you go to bed with her that you wouldn't know otherwise. The obvious things, like what her nipple feels like against your tongue, and the way her body moves when she comes, but there are other things too. He can still feel the ghost of her glued to his side, remembers the weight of her head on his chest and the way her hand made restless circles on his stomach as they came down.

It didn't start last night. This isn't the end.


End file.
